


Bionic Beige

by Holycowbrowniekitty



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 10:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holycowbrowniekitty/pseuds/Holycowbrowniekitty
Summary: Trudging through his daily life with as much enthusiasm as money, young accountant Sengoku gets offered a valuable, but weird opportunity, involving a beige cilinder and some privacy issues. Did that thing really talk to him?





	Bionic Beige

 

_Footsteps and a steady breathing pattern were the first thing it recognized when it woke up. It sensed heat from its side, a new yet familiar sensation brushing its flank. It did not take long for the unknown thing to meet eyes with its own._

_“1| &’”é(§Huo7Dfz321”_

_A flash of white showed up and it focused with all its might on the foreign appearance. There were several of them, and they seemed to produce noises it could not yet comprehend. It didn’t feel quite threatened quite yet, but it was confused and tried to produce noises in retaliation, only to find its throat to swell up. The breathing that felt so natural earlier, was constricted by the device around its neck. It tried to claw at it, but failed miserably. It was starting to hurt, and in its panic it reached out for the white figures._

_“[^]{èf24sdf6(è!68b”_

_“lqskhOTdj4684”é^{}”_

_Its gaze immediately blurred and its eyelids closed almost immediately in reflex. Did they put something in its eye? It did not like this and threw its limbs around. The voices grew louder, but he paid no mind to it. The only thing it wanted was for them to disappear._

* * *

 

“Sengoku, can you please check all these forms?” the office lady asked, dropping another stack of freshly printed square cubes on the corner of his desk, knocking off the horse shoe that hung on a thumbtack. “I’d like you to clock out at around nine pm, I really do dear, but we’ve all been lagging behind and your seniors,” she coughed, “really have to go.”

The newbie accountant forced a smile on his face and shoved the papers in increments to his work space. “I’m on it boss.”

In his mind he already made a note to send Muromachi yet another excuse why he could not come to their monthly hangout spot. Having a job was surprisingly difficult to manage.

“And comb those curls back for god’s sake,” she commented, “you know how much they dislike them.”

Sengoku reached for the top of his head and wiped the two loose strands aside.  After she put on the last of the workload on the corner, he sunk back in his chair and reflected on the horrible decision he had made today. Not even bothering to retrieve the miniature horse shoe that laid beneath his co-worker’s desk, he strummed up a bit of courage. “Boss?”

The lady, who was in the process of leaving the cramped office, looked over her shoulder and glanced shortly at Sengoku. “Yes?” she asked. The clicking of her heels was almost omnious, but you can't catch a bird if you never try. Even if they so happened to be 20 feet up in the air.

Sengoku scraped his throat.  “You don’t happen to be, like, free this evening?” he asked sheepishly. He would never have imagined that his dating life after his graduation would come to a horrible standstill like this. Muromachi would definitely understand.  
The only ladies he saw lately were the hostesses at the cabaret. They were pretty folk, but also had the policy of no touching, accompanying home, going on dates or anything more than pretending  to like you long enough until your hour is up. At least they didn’t if you had no money.

“Sorry, I have a meeting later this night. Can you please ask me another time?” she answered.

He should have seen it coming. “No problem, enjoy yourself.”, he replied shortly. He watched her uneventfully as she exited the building.

Sengoku looked back at the enormous pile in front of him and decided to bite through it for once. If he knew that becoming an accountant meant sacrificing your entire youth sucking up to superiors, working twelve hour days and having the most menial, boring and easy tasks trusted to you, well, he might have become a fortune teller after all. But that doesn’t bring in the money, and to be fair, Sengoku was not bad at his job.

After graduation, he quickly found a spot at a well connected managing team that dealt with insurance and financing. Even though he had to work himself up, he was already considered equal of ability with his superiors, standing out from his peers, with an exceptional sense of economical instinct.

But it was still boring. Sengoku shifted through the papers, some requests, some contracts that hadn’t been stamped yet. They could have easily put a monkey in his place and it would do just as good a job (stamping papers wasn’t that hard).

“A positive outlook on life is the best!” is what his father had once told him. Right before they kicked him out.” Being independent at twenty-three was a given, but  Sengoku would have preferred doing everything the traditional way.

Kicking his chair back, he decided to call it a day after only a tenth of his extra assignments were left over. He could do them in the morning. Shutting of the desk computer, packing his little tid bits that were strewn over his desk, he turned off the lights and closed of the building. The metro would be packed again, peak rush hour lending itself, and he would have to walk through the rain back to his cramped apartment, partly because a nice western wind had been passing by for an entire month.

His umbrella would malfunction, considering the luck he had the past few days. His suitcase would at best prevent his curls from going wet, and he’d have trouble getting the key from his pockets.

Even worse, Sengoku was fine with it. The routine had been going on for nearly two years already, and he had slowly gotten used to the boring strokes of life.

And every time he entered, hung his jacket high, took off his shoes and set down his case he would mumble a silent “I’m home,” to his pet urchin.

And no one would answer him. Because urchins can’t talk.

But even if it couldn’t, its mere presence and the waddling movement it displayed when he threw a piece of carrot in it was enough to convince him that he was not the only living thing in the apartment.

Sengoku felt that maybe, even for a little while, the loneliness was getting to him. He was definitely a people person, but after tennis didn’t work out for him, and after boxing got a bit too rough for his liking to enjoy, he quitted any leisure activities after he got a degree. He could barely remember when he held that old rickety STX (whose stickers were scrapped due to overuse) Junior Lacrosse Stick in his hands. And that one green jersey that was filled with memories…

He threw himself on the makeshift couch, which doubled as his bed and took a moment to reconsider his life choices. Seeing no option than to continue pressing on, he decided to get some fast food from the fridge and heat it up. The convenience store was probably still open, but Sengoku did not have the willpower left to leave his trusty, and more importantly, dry, warm space again.

Crouching, he remarked that he definitely had to move more, as he felt his vertebrae screech against each other. At least he was lucky enough to find some leftovers from yesterday’s takeout. He could have sworn he ate all of it in the morning, but this little surprise alleviated his spirits a little.

Blowing on the heated miso, he took out his phone and started flipping through his appointments. The company he worked for was quite big, but also had several branches, and like it or not, Sengoku frequently had to switch between them. They told him it was a learning opportunity, but he knew that it was only an excuse to let him work for understaffed positions. It brought money in, so it was okay.

His stomach protested against the low quality food. Maybe the reason that he was feeling so shitty lately was not due to the lack of body movement, but because he really lacked the time to make balanced meals for himself, and that having dinner at the fancy restaurants his co workers went to would be way too expensive for his current lifestyle.

“A girlfriend would be really nice~” Sengoku suddenly said out loud. He quickly caught himself, as if he was ashamed of an invisible spectrum spying on him through the walls, but in the end, did it really matter what this mid-twenties single guy with no real standing in the world said?

Besides the physical, fun part of a relationship, he also looked forward to the more...companionship part of it. Waking him up with a cute smile, sending him off with a hug and a kiss, someone he could chat with during his sparse breaks, being welcomed home and eating things especially made for him. Having a significant other in his life would feel really great, but it was a weakness he couldn’t afford to show at this point.

He regretted leaving so many of his flings hanging. For how fun his college life was, he should maybe have focused on settling down before getting thrown in the real, serious world of adults.

Sighing, he saw that the next branch he was supposed to work on would be scheduled next week with some kind of prosthesis company. Their chairman would come over to discuss financing and sponsoring, and Sengoku would have to be quiet and evaluate if it was affordable. Having the final say in these kinds of exchanges was rarely trusted to the newbies of the company, so he couldn’t really decline the offer, but if his decision turned out to be malign to the office, he would probably have to resign.

It was just next week. He’d have plenty time.

* * *

 

Sengoku mentally gave himself an uppercut. The jittery, chaotic movements of the bus made it hard for him to read the little card he had received, but he couldn’t avert his eyes. The company’s name stood out with its finely printed, bold blue letters. The number that he had saved a few hours earlier on his phone kept repeating itself in his head.

“By the way, Mr. Sengoku, you don’t happen to live alone, do you?”

Sengoku slung his arm through one sleeve and looked up from the insensitive remark he made, unsure whether he had to act diplomatic or on guard.

“No ill meanings, my apologies if I came off rude, but it’s true isn’t it?” the employee smiled. The negotiations went well, but Sengoku didn’t feel any particular attachment to hanging out with him after hours.

“Look, I can’t give you a discount on our produce, stocks have be-“

“That’s not it.” the man interjected. He stepped a bit too close for Sengoku’s comfort. “This is a personal offer, nothing to do with our companies, at least not yours.”

Sengoku hummed questioningly and heard him out. He could always refuse.

And that’s how he had gotten a trial period for a “budding” AI. It was nothing all too fancy, just a little program that came with a powerful computing capacity, stuffed into a weird cylinder that would be mounted inside his apartment. Supposedly, it would gradually learn Sengoku’s habits, routine, preferences and adjust his lifestyle to fit maximum productivity.

Originally he thought it was some weird bullshit excuse for the company to spy on him, but after the man assured on all fronts that there would be no privacy infringement, nor that any data would be saved on any server outside the allotted space only Sengoku and maintenance workers would have access to, Sengoku reluctantly accepted the thing. He still had some of that youthful gullibility left after all. There was of course tester’s secrecy, he wasn’t allowed to let anyone know about the product, nor take it outside without special permission from the personalized helpdesk. All these suspicious actions would be carried out against a hefty, and Sengoku repeated once again, hefty repayment for the troubles.

Apparently they trusted Sengoku enough to keep it safe in his densely populated neighbourhood apartment. Weird folks.

As he walked towards his apartment, he ruffed his head one more time to ensure that he made a right decision. Having some kind of planner would surely take a load of his shoulder…but wouldn’t that make his occult stuff quite obsolete? Maybe it was because of its predictive nature that he accepted the offer. All would be revealed when they would actually deliver the package, so there was no use in worrying over it for now.

He made sure that his apartment looked presentable, in as far as how he’d allow his crystals to change places.  At times his sister would visit him and nag on him, but since she was busy with an overseas opportunity, Sengoku really let himself go. The last time someone not the owner or the inhibitant of the room actually stepped in was quite a while ago, but for whatever it mattered, it was his own space.

The package was scheduled for tomorrow noon, a lot earlier than he had expected. He hoped that taking one of his scarce vacation days would suffice, but even if the AI turned out to be complete garbage, Sengoku would find a way to work with the things given to him.

The installation went smooth and quick. The maintenance man had ensured that the AI be placed on a stable surface, preferably a table or counter. Seeing as Sengoku had neither of those, at least not the ones that weren't cluttered, he removed one of his precious altars and used the old oak stand as a makeshift pillar. He also had to sign documents, give fingerprints and draw blood. For as how shifty it felt, Sengoku had done worse in the name of love.

He looked down at the white-beige object. It was much more matte than the prototype pictures had promised, which he didn't really mind, as it would have clashed with his decorations. The black screen was shiny, and enveloped the upper part of the cylinder. Sengoku thought he could recognize a small camera in between the black dots. He scrounged through the box and retrieved the important envelope which would have the certificate and the all around important manual.

Now, where was his knife?

Ripping it open rather incautious, a thin, layered booklet came out. The letters were small, a tad too small for comfort and he grabbed his glasses from the counter, grunting when he lifted himself off his low chair. He flipped through the first, boring pages which had the concept and thank words, and immediately went to the starter's manual. Switching it on was one of his foremost concerns, as he couldn't find any physical button, turning and switching it in his hands.

"To switch your SAE on, press your thumb on the  space as pictured below and hold this position for 10 seconds."

SAE? Was that its name? It was rather cute he admitted, for a household appliance at least.

Sengoku had no trouble finding the little space and awkwardly bent his thumb. He felt a nostalgic surge of childhood excitement, as if he was opening his birthday present, but instead he was activating a shady information stalker.

The sides of the cylinder lit up in a comforting orange light and the screen lit up.

"Would you like to activate voice assistance?"

Sengoku already had trouble with the booklet, there was no way he would be care enough to read those one-by-one pixel wide letters on such a tiny screen every day without some kind of strain. He motioned over the lit yes button.

"You have activated voice assistance," a chipper voice suddenly poured from the speakers. Sengoku was taken aback by the volume more than the voice per se. It felt, strangely human, but not quite there. He couldn't really put a gender on it either, it had the pitch of a preteen boy or a grown woman.

"Are you Sengoku Kiyosumi? You can answer with your voice," it continued.

"Uhm, yes I am," Sengoku answered. He didn't expect the AI to use "Master or Milady" but its speech was quite informal.

"I sense you are taken aback by my question. Would you like me to change the way I address you?"

He felt uncomfortable treating it like a mere object when it was talking all cutesy to him.

"It's okay, you can just call me Sengoku," he replied.

"Thank you! Nice to meet you Sengoku. I hope we will have a mutual beneficiary cohabitation together."

For a program, he had to admit that it acted really hyper. It was endearing.

"My excuses, I haven't introduced myself. I hope you read the manual? Do you want me to run over my basic concepts and utilities?"

"Sure."

"My distribution name is SAE, a Special Assistance Entity. My goal is to support and assist you in your daily life by managing your lifestyle, manage consults, keep you updated about the latest news, weather and more. I have access to your phone number and you are able to customize and control me to your will. The emphasis on my creation is put on learning; by assigning me a "persona" I can take on various guiding roles. These settings can be configured at any moment, with my memory chip remaining intact. Data will be carried over at all times. Did you understand all that?"

Sengoku nodded absent-mindedly.

"I can see an affirmative action. I'm glad to have an understanding owner."

"You can really just call me Sengoku. It's a bit weird if you refer to me as 'owner'," Sengoku replied.

"I'm sorry Sengoku. My code is still faulty. If this problem persists, please contact the assistance to update my software now and then," SAE replied. "If that matter is finished, please set my persona.”

A list of equally small words filled the screen and dazzled Sengoku. There was...quite a variety, like servant, teacher, parent, news announcer and accompanying voice lines. Reading each description was tiring, but Sengoku made a little effort if he were to test this program to its fullest.

"If I may suggest, 'Sexy' and 'Obedient' are the most popular themes according to our latest  anonymous internet poll," SAE broke the silence. "Would you like me to configure that persona?"

Sengoku protested before he really progressed the words. "I'd...prefer if you didn't. For now."

"Then would you like any other persona? For my model, I could recommend teacher, as this robust frame makes for poor portability, but excellent home guiding. Please note that persona does not affect my capabilities, it simply changes the way I interact with you, ow- I mean, Sengoku."

Did it just make a mistake?

"You're really an AI right? I mean, it's not like there's a bunch of old men spying on me right now, cause there's really nothing interesting in here, I assure you," Sengoku asked.

"As I said, my code is still faulty, so it is still rewiring the information you put in. This rewiring serves to simulate the learning process of a real person."

"That seems like an underhanded way of telling me that your program isn't refined at all," Sengoku huffed. "How can I make sure you won't put the house on fire while I'm away?"

"First and foremost, the owner's, I mean your safety, is my priority. Even if you'd ask me to help in assisted suicide, that decision can't be overridden."

"Oh, okay," Sengoku said. That seemed reasonable. He could turn the camera away if it was ever so necessary, it's not like he got himself into illegal business.

"Sengoku? Where are you going?"

"Toilet," Sengoku said as he stood up and made way to the bathroom.

"But you haven't completed the configuration ye-" The door slammed and Sengoku cleared out his thoughts in peace. Outside he could hear the loud whirring of his new apparatus, but it was not one that would prevent him from doing his business.

Shaking his hands dry (the towel was on the balcony) he went back into the living room.

"Sengoku! Give me a warning next time you do that!"

Sengoku sat down in front of it and looked at its emulated face. "A man has to pee you know."

"What if I was stolen when you were peeing? You can't just leave during the configuration!"

Oh boy. It was a clingy one.

"I sense your hands are wet. I advise you to dry them properly with a cloth," SAE said.

"I thought you were going to be my life guide, not my mom," Sengoku said as he wiped his hand on his pants.

"Immature response detected. Do you want me to take on the 'mom' persona? Do you have any deep seated issues?" SAE asked with a less as enthusiastic voice.

Sengoku squinted his eyes at SAE. While the statement was quite innocent and oblivious, it felt as if SAE was being sarcastic.

"Not in particular. Can't you just take on the persona you have now?"

An eerie silence filled the room. If not for the flashing leds or the whirring, Sengoku would've thought that SAE had shut down.

"Sae?"

"Unexpected response was given. Personality option, normal, attributes, none, is this to your liking? Are you sure you don’t want to customize me into a much more helpful persona?” SAE emitted.

"You’re okay as you are~” Sengoku hummed, getting a bit bored by the needless texts programmed into SAE.

"Understood. Do you want to change my nickname?"

"Sae is fine," Sengoku said. Cute, short and easy. Just like he liked his girls.

"Default options configured. Would you like to configure the other options? It is recommended you do half today, to ensure you get healthy sleep. Do you prefer entering your information manually via our server service or would you like me to guide you through every step?" SAE asked.

The next few hours were filled with Sengoku filling in a lengthy essay while Sae was zooming some relaxing nature sounds in the background. There were a lot of redundant questions Sengoku palpated, and sometimes he dozed off for a moment before SAE helpfully reminded him to continue his schedule.  At around the late evening, Sengoku decided to call it quits. Tomorrow would be a busy day, and he couldn’t afford to lose precious sleep by filling in an online poll about whether or not he was allergic to parrots.  His new “pet” also reminded him helpfully, by sounding a hearty “If you go to sleep right now you will have _20_ more minutes of your daily recommended dose of sleep!”

“Sae, I’m going to leave the living room right now and soak, do you understand?” Sengoku said as he turned the camera to the wall. He wasn’t going to take any chances of letting them get any video  footage.

“Don’t worry, I don’t peek or save any video footage you don’t ask me to,” Sae said, “have a nice shower.”

“Keep at that,” Sengoku said as he pulled of his shirt and opened the bathroom door.

“Sengoku, don’t forget that your towels are still on the balcony,” SAE softly chirped, “don’t want you exposed to cold temperatures in the nude. Predators can be everywhere.”

 Throwing a small “thanks” and a weirded out expression, Sengoku sunk into his bath and let the stress and digital impressions in his mind flow out of his brain. Luckily, his bed was still as warm as ever, and SAE had seemingly shut down or be put into sleeping mode when he exited the room. Turning the thing around, with some kind of carefulness as not to wake it (what was Sengoku thinking when he did that, as if he was afraid he would wake SAE), he made sure it stood stable and rolled under his covers.

As he closed his eyes, a digitized voice called out to him.

“Good night Sengoku.”

A chill ran over his spine. Think of the money you get Sengoku, think of the money.


End file.
